i am tempted at timesto settle for all thesesweet concealmentspirits of men singingwhat this world feelswith all fragile frillsand nod with all admissionthat it is trueand yet it must notbe utteredfor fear that we canbe wrong too

for who is so certain about what we feel? for what we cannot really say?

nimble and shiveringalong the paths of stonei keep looking for morebeyond and deep insideand out